


kindred spirits

by Sweetsourwolf



Category: The Queen's Gambit (TV), the Queen's Gambit
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:27:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27391972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sweetsourwolf/pseuds/Sweetsourwolf
Summary: Beth reflects on her past games against the best chess player in the world.
Relationships: Beth Harmon/Vasily Borgov
Comments: 12
Kudos: 180





	kindred spirits

**Author's Note:**

> Have this cringy oneshot where yes, I do use the three stages of chess, please look past the cringe, I just needed to write SOMETHING for them, as I was very disappointed when I found NO fics of them on here. (Also while trying to come up with a title I came up with one, but it had a way more sexy vibe so I might have to write something else to fit that...)

_О, небо, небо, ты мне будешь сниться!_

_Не может быть, чтоб ты совсем ослепло_

_И день сгорел, как белая страница:_

_Немного дыма и немного пепла!_

_\- Осип Мандельштам_

_Oh sky, sky, I’m going to dream about you!_

_It can’t be that you’ve gone completely blind,_

_That the day, like a sheet of blank paper, has burnt through_

_Leaving only a little smoke and ash behind!_

_\- Osip Mandelstam_

**the opening**

She’d been young still. Fresh faced and eager eyed. This was never even a competition for him to begin with. She was moving the pieces, automatically, on autopilot. But so did he. Somehow she'd found herself trapped in a corner she can’t think her way out of. He stripped her of her control without any hesitation. Without even taking any pleasure in it. 

He looked bored. Or disappointed perhaps. 

She was just another appetizer. Not strong enough to still his hunger. Not strong enough to challenge or entice him. It’s pathetic really when it dawned on her that she’d lost. The humiliation of the defeat was palpable, her board no longer a safe space. It had betrayed her in the end.

Hurt her.

He'd hurt her. Without even knowing it. Without any intent, and that made it somehow worse. As if she was no more than a fly he'd swat away on his path. Silly little girl.

Beth ran.

**the middlegame**

The second time was worse. She was convinced that if she herself was responsible for the loss of control it would make a difference. It didn’t. She still lost.

Beth was fidgeting in her seat, her bulging eyes tracking every piece on the board. The black and white started to blur together, making for a confusing concoction in her head. Her fingernails were digging into her thighs as a last ditch effort to ground herself. But it felt as if she was going to pass out, right then and there.

That would’ve been quite the stir. What if she’d slammed her aching head onto the table? Pawns, and kings, and queens, and bishops would’ve gone flying to the floor. People would’ve held up their cameras, perhaps even strained their fingers in their avidity to snap a picture. 

Would he have gotten up and left? Or would he have remained there just as he always was, unmovable, like a stoic statue. The mere thought of his detached reaction to her made her stomach turn. The alcohol from the previous night threatened to come up but she forced it back down with another glass of water.

She was so parched. So tired. She felt the first sting of wetness in her eyes.

 _Zugzwang._ Any move she’d make would be futile.

The distant sounds of glass shattering and tires screeching rose up like a long forgotten nightmare from the back of her mind.

She thought that this time would’ve felt different. That it wouldn’t have hurt as much if she’d sabotaged herself. It wouldn’t feel like a betrayal. And it didn’t…

It felt like a kind of relief.

**the endgame**

There was nothing left for her. No pills. No drinks. No family. There was only her. She was left stranded on the board. The Queen. 

For the first time in what felt like an eternity she’d managed to regain control. Every chess piece was an extension of herself now, and she would shed a skin of her past with every loss of a player on the board.

Every bit of doubt and insecurity evaporated, floated high above her until it dissolved into the checkered ceiling in her head. There was nothing left to do for her but win.

Beth’s eyes met his and they found a kindred spirit. Beth and Borgov. Two prodigies, two of the world’s best chess players. She wouldn’t have had to study Russian to understand him, because they’d already shared a common language.

_“It’s your game. Take it.”_

Borgov smiled.

Beth recognized the familiar look of relief on his face. She reached out and his fingers closed around hers, the little chess piece held by them like a shared little heartbeat.

  
  



End file.
